Chapter 12 - Cold Harbor
We did not rush to Wilmington with a convoy of armed men.
That was what Dominic would expect.
Mara contacted federal authorities through a prosecutor Dana knew but had never controlled.
We provided the ledger images, Sofia's statement through appropriate channels, and the location from Daniel's notebook.
I hated handing over the next move.
But an investigator who mistakes urgency for permission can ruin the case she wants to save.
Two days later, authorized agents searched the Cold Harbor facility under warrant.
I waited in a rented office with Rachel, Matteo, Isabella, and Sofia.
Every minute crawled.
At noon, a prosecutor called with confirmation that the building contained a concealed lower level.
They had recovered medical supplies, old surveillance equipment, and personal effects.
No prisoner was found.
Rachel closed her eyes.
I knew the grief of getting an answer that wasn't an answer.
That evening an agent allowed us to identify several items through photographs.
One was a field notebook with Daniel's handwriting.
Another was an Army identification card with his face.
The third was a blue ceramic mug chipped along the rim.
It had belonged to me.
I'd given it to Daniel on our last deployment because he kept stealing mine.
"He was there," I said.
The agent nodded.
"At some point. We don't know when or where he went."
Matteo examined the facility's exterior photographs.
"This place was never abandoned," he said. "That power meter is new. Someone kept it running."
He pointed to a service entrance partly hidden by loading crates.
"And those deliveries went through my company."
"Can you identify the driver?" the agent asked.
Matteo looked at me before answering.
"Yes. I can identify the operation that arranged them."
For a moment the room was quiet.
Then he provided documents, account names, and the names of men who had answered directly to Dominic.
He didn't ask for immunity first.
I noticed.
Sofia watched him with a solemn expression.
"Are you in trouble?" she asked.
"Probably," he replied.
"Good trouble or bad trouble?"
He crouched beside her.
"The kind I should have dealt with years ago."
The next morning authorities identified a bloodstain in the lower room and sent it for testing.
The results would take time.
Rachel wanted to believe it was Daniel's.
I wanted to believe it wasn't.
Neither hope would change the laboratory.
That afternoon, Eleanor called from Camden.
Her front door had been forced.
She was safe at a neighbor's, but the cassette recorder and the original letter from Thomas were missing.
Whoever entered had ignored jewelry, cash, and electronics.
They wanted testimony.
I asked whether anything else was gone.
Eleanor hesitated.
"A photograph of Rose holding a baby."
"Which baby?"
She was silent long enough for me to hear another woman's voice in the background asking if she needed a doctor.
"Emily," Eleanor said at last, "there's something about your mother that Rose never let me tell you."
I shut my eyes.
"Please don't make me beg for the truth."
May you like
Eleanor whispered, "She wasn't the woman who gave birth to you."
